


Half way between Heaven and Hell

by Witchofnovember



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchofnovember/pseuds/Witchofnovember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sad thing was, this was just an ordinary Saturday night on Gotham's streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half way between Heaven and Hell

Georgie O hunched down in his coat and tried to get out of the wind as he eased into the alley. He had found a place back by the laundry off of K street, just on the edge of the bad part of the East End, near the old First Baptist church. He liked it there half way between virtue and vice. That just seemed to sum up Gotham. The Baptists would feed you but you had to listen to them talk about God's mercy. And Georgie didn't expect any more mercy from the Heavenly Father than he'd ever gotten from his Earthly one.

Still, tonight he'd gone in and got a plate of hot food. He'd seen his fetch that morning, looking at him all bloody and pale, and he didn't mean to die on an empty stomach. Or sober, not if he could help it. If there was a heaven it would be hot food and cold beer, if there was a hell, well his old man would be waiting for him.

Lately he'd been able to duck most of the street trouble coming his way, but not tonight, He was in for it tonight sure enough. When he knew it was coming he scraped and borrowed and begged as much as he could to get a bottle of the hard stuff, just to dull the hurt. He cradled that bottle as he looked for the box he had stashed, just to make a little bit of a tent over the dryer vent.

"Scum." somebody shoved him hard from behind and Georgie stumbled and dropped his bottle. He held his breath as the bottle rolled across the pavement, only breathing again when it came to a gentle stop against the trash can. He was going to get beat down, that much he knew, and god he needed that bottle. Sad thing was, this was just an ordinary Saturday night on Gotham's streets. He didn't know what he had done to earn himself the pain, but then he never did.

Then a foot landed on his precious bottle, smashing it to bits and letting all that wonderful oblivion drain away. He whimpered and stared at his persecutors, but the men's faces were hidden, like always. All anybody new was that they were big and they laughed while they beat you down.  
The first shot was to his thigh, practically a bone breaker that ground his leg muscles into hamburger. It was meant to cripple, to keep him from running away- as if he could've anyway, bone tired and twice their age. He rolled away from the kicks, trying to get to his hands and knees and scrabble away. The pavement was cold under his hands and scrapped his palms as they pulled him back, nearly pulling his coat off. Still he scrabbled along the road way and dug in his pocket for his box knife. It was all he had, but the alternative was to just lay down and die.

Another kick drove the wind out of his lungs and he swiped at them with his knife. The small one laughed as he jumped away, taunting him with an open target that he never would be able to reach. The bigger one just reached out and wrenched his arm back until the knife fell from his fingers. He sighed as he did it, like this was all so tedious.

"What did I do to you?" Georgie spat blood and tried to figure out somehow to get away, but he had seen the fetch, "Why me?"

"Because," and the big one stomped on his ankle-this time he could feel the bones break and the splinters drive through his skin.

The big man was saying something, but Georgie couldn't hear it, his ears were filled with the buzz of his blood and the sound of starlings squabbling in the snow. Why was he thinking of starlings- evil birds, that drove out the blue birds his momma used to love so much? He curled up away trying to hide his head and hurt arm, leaving open his kidneys and spine. Dear god it hurt so much.

Thing about pain is- there's only so much a body can take before you go away to where it doesn't hurt any more. Georgie figured he must be there, he could feel the punches landing, just not on him. Then it was over, everything was over.

Somebody was leaning over him "Old man?" This voice he could hear, it was deep and filled if a gruff pity. "Hold on, help is coming."

"Don't leave." Georgie cast out with his good hand and caught a gloved hand. "Don't wanna die alone." Georgie tried to focus on his face, but the light was all wrong and all he could see was the silhouette of bat ears.

"You're not going to die."

Georgie shook his head, the Batman knew a lot, but he was wrong about this. He knew, had known from the time he woke up, that tonight he was going to die. For a minute he just tried to breath, it hurt, at the bottom of each breath. At some point the rain had turned to snow.

"What did I do?" Maybe the Batman could tell him that much.

"Nothing," the Batman knelt down next to him, "You were just there, a target of opportunity."

Georgie shuddered. Breathing was getting harder and a cough sent daggers through his lungs. He whimpered, and the Batman pulled his coat up around his shoulders.

"This is a good coat," Georgie tried to sit up but the Batman gently held him down, "a boy gave me it seven-eight years ago."

"Ten."

He nodded, if the Batman said it was ten years ago it must be. "He seemed like a good boy, running though. Everybody is running, you know." He drew a careful breath, just to where it started to hurt, "I always wondered what happened to that boy."

"He grew up, and remembered where he belonged." The Batman moved so he took more of Georgie's weight.

"Did his people take him back?" If the boy could go home, maybe he could too.

"Yes, they did." the Batman's voice seemed softer, like he was remembering too.

"Good," he could only draw in a little bit of air in each breath and it scared him, more than the beating, more that anything. "I wish I could go home."

"Where's home?" It almost sounded like he cared.

Where was it- not there anymore, "Granddad's fishing cabin in the hills..." and the scent of green trees and sweet water was in his mind taking him so far away from the Narrows and the city.

 

Batman held the old man until he could hear the sirens, coming too late. He got up from the sidewalk and tugged Bruce Wayne's old coat around the body as the police pulled up. The lights stained the falling snow red and blue and made the scene surreal and gaudy. Batman stood as still as ice ad the cops pulled up. They practically fell out of the car in their eagerness to draw down on him. Let them. Let them order him to freeze and think they had captured "the vigilante called Batman".

"Treat him with respect." he stared down their guns. "I'll know if you don't." Then with a flick of his wrist he caught the grappling cable and was whisked into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to stand alone as a vignette and then used it as a prologue to a longer piece, one that I'm still trying to beat into submission.


End file.
